Another War to Wage
by Eternal War
Summary: When a mission goes fubar for Inquisitor Jordius and his battle harden elite, it results in them not only being misplaced in a different dimension of reality, but also being separated. Though an Inquisitorial team may be prepared to deal with several things, are they prepared to deal with an entire different universe? I only am author of the plot line, not the characters and items.
1. Prolgue

The chamber was dark, unlit but for five light sources within the cavernous space of the room. Orbs, giving off a strong blue glow, a testament to their eldritch powers. The orbs, held in place by five separate figures, their identities concealed by purple robes with hoods. A sixth figure paced around the gathering of the orb holders, watching, waiting for something to happen. His robes held elaboration to them, a gold trimming, to signify his superiority. The room was deadly quite, no distractions for the orb holders, using the eldritch powers to cast some form of spell. The room was akin to that of catacombs, the interesting part was as the power fluxed from the orbs and their wielders, small runes lit along the length of the struts of the room. As the ritual continued, more of the runes lit, until the entirety of the room was alive and pulsing with the ancient figures.

"Focus" The sixth figure said, his masculine voice carrying across the near empty room as he continued to circle the group. "We know not was lies on the other side, and it is best we avoid another case such as the Eternal Nightmare." Several of the group shuffled a little at this, all of them being reminded previously of how several of their kin had died to a beast torn from another reality. There was no time to reminisce about the past however, for the runes had begun to glow with a increased fervor. In the center of the five wielders formed a small slit between the air. Slowly, the slit increased in size until it was akin to the size of the orbs that created it.

"each outward with your minds, find purchase in the realm beyond ours. Be cautious, for even if it is not the void we touch it can still be a terrible danger to the un guarded mind." The sixth said, still passing around the ritual. The rift grew wider, and expanded, not to the edge of those gathered but large enough for even the tallest man to pass through.

"I have a hold, of what I do not know." Spoke one of the spell weavers.

"I to have found purchase, but I can feel the weight of something." Another spoke out in confirmation. The remaining three all cast their assurances at the weight of something other-worldly. The sixth stopped and looked at the portal before speaking again.

"Grab a hold and focus, we must do this as one." He said, raising his own arms up into a stance, eldritch glow surrounding his hands to form an orb of his own, power racing from it as he pushed it in the direction of the rift. "I join you my friends, do not lose purchase of our catch."

The rift began to simmer and pulse akin to the runes in the room, throwing a light pinkish tint over the blue glow from the orbs, swirling as a shape began to form inside the rift. As the shape grew more defined the portal buckled and contorted, strained with power beyond its size. All of the mages looked up to see the outline of a person, much larger than them, fierce and intimidating just in size. Color soon was added to the outline, until the entire figure was covered in black, trimmed with silver.

Just as the figure was seemingly about to complete, the portal released this horrifying scream, rattling what seemed to be the chamber itself. The mages sought to cover their ears but it proved to be their undoing, for as they retracted control from the orbs the rift flared its light stronger, before sending out a shockwave. The mages were knocked aside, and the rift closed itself, taking the screaming with it, but leaving the figure there as they landed among the now light deprived room.

* * *

The air was damp, the space surrounding them was dark, and the smell nigh unbearable, but that's how it was in the underhive. The lack of natural light had been established millennia ago, the underhive being the very first layers to be darkened by their successors. The establishment of lumen orbs was a necessary but those had long since lost power in this deep and dark sector of the underhive. The only thing to pierce the unending darkness was a small group of flash lights, slowly scanning the area as they proceeded at a hesitant pace. The group slowly proceeded, surrounded by ankle deep water, the flash lights that shined over it revealing its dirty brown coloring. The metal walls shone with a slimy film whenever a light would roll over them, revealing way to a corridor, that stretched for what seemed a small eternity. It was when one of the lights shone upon a great steel door that the group halted, looking up at the rusted and aged doors.

There were five lights in total, but the group was larger, from one of the group a hand rose up, fingers splaying out, two, then five, then three before dropping back down. The party reacted instantly, two of the members stepping up to the doors. One was equipped with a flash light, the other hefting a small bag from his shoulder. Opening up the bag, the two reached forth, revealing several cylinders, metal and near the size of a child's forearm. each one had both a flat end and a rounded end, gleaming a crimson tint in the light of the flashlight. The two began to place the flat ends on the door, spreading them out in a pentagram like shape. The figure with the now emptied bag now backed away from the door, watching as the remaining fellow reached out to all of the cylinders, pressing against the rounded ends causing them to glow. With haste the man backed away , moving back to the party before they as a whole took three steps back. As the glow from the cylinders pulsed stronger, the one who raised their fingers from before said a single word.

"Shield."

A blue glimmer began in the air from the person beside him, and slowly rose along their hand, up into the eagle shaped staff they carried, and surrounded the group in a dome of solid blue light. The glare from the cylinders had increased in the passing second, and right as the shield was fully completed stopped all it once. It was then that all havoc broke loose.

The cylinders exploded into the door, the air supercharged with heat as the doors bent and shredded into shrapnel into the room beyond. There were several screams that followed in the split second, accompanied by gunfire into the doorway from the other side. Red bolts flared and slapped into the shield around the group as they soundlessly charged forward, descending upon the foe in the next room. They flew forth in a seemingly fierce and controlled fashion, cutting through chosen targets with ease. Blood flew as the party ripped through their enemies, the water below inter mixing with the fading lifeblood.

The first difference from the corridor was that this room was light, albeit poorly, by fading yellow lumen orbs. The gun fire from both sides doing little but flare against the surrounding metal room to reveal the few tables and artwork upon the walls. What obscene artwork it was, shapes and colors that defied both reality and physics, the shapes in the artwork seeming to change as the light appeared and then disappeared from it. The center piece of the room however, was a stone elevation in the center of the room, atop it resting a stone alter, behind it a screaming fanatic.

His face was red and the look in his eyes was wild and dangerous, as if the man himself was not completely whole, or there for the matter. He screamed obscenities at the trespassers, firing his own single hand fire arm into the shield protecting the party members. He wore blue and purple robes, caked at the bottom by the brown water, but the most interesting, or rather, horrifying thing about the robe was how it shifted and changed hues similar to the artwork on the walls. He was not the only one, for several of his allies were dressed in similar robes, though not as elegant as his. He kept screaming as the fight continued, but that screaming wadded away as he noticed that the walls, more specifically the art work, had started to pulse in an obscene and grotesque rhythm.

A smile cracked through the fanatic's lips, his eyes widening in realization. He rose his hands into the air above the alter, focusing more on the air before him than the party as it began to part, and shift, slowly, reality and time seemed to bend and twist, creating a vortex of psychic power. The leader of the party looked up as he felt the tension in the air and the lack of the screaming from the fanatic. His own eyes widened as he looked upon the shifting air before yelling out to his comrades.

"The Alter, We Must Destroy It!"

In an instant the party turned from their various engagements, instead focusing on the alter and the fanatic. The first one to react was a party member far larger than the rest. With inhuman speed he reached to his waist, revealing a small canister with a pin. Within the second the pin was out and the grenade was sent hurling towards the base of the alter. It sailed through the air, sailing to the foot of the alter but the shifting vortex grasped it out of the air with unrealistic powers. It ascended alongside the alter to face level with the cultist, who stared at it for a mere second, his eyes slowly rising with panic.

There was an explosion, followed by a heavy scream as the fanatic was ripped apart by the point blank force of the grenade, followed up by a heavy crack as the alter unevenly split down the center and sides. There was screaming from the remaining hostiles as the party looked at the shot them down still focusing their eyes upon the remaining rift, which contorted and spasm. The leader shouted out, particularly to the man with the staff.

"Suppress that Rift, Now!"

The staff wielder reached forth, as if to grab the rift, even though several meters away from it. The rift contorted and lashed out harder, as if a wild animal as beads of perspiration dotted the staff wielders brow. Bolts of lightning now shot forth from the rift, striking the hostiles and the shield of the party alike, frying the unprotected cultist and splashing heavily against the shield. The shield withstood several more lashes before finally collapsing, the lighting suddenly stopping right after. The rift remained however, and several of the party member's weapons trailed upon it. The party watched for a few more seconds in hesitation, slowly shifting apart as they took up firing positions, before in a sudden moment the vortex expanding to resemble a portal, and a strong sucking wind came from the swirling blue and purple warp matter. The lighting returned, though not as heavily as the group tried to withstand the constant and unrelenting gale. One by one they were dragged in, slower and slower with cries of desperation and frustration. The lightning cracked and smashed the lumen globes in the room, the portal remaining as the only source of light. The largest fellow was the last to be sucked in, his pitch black and silver tinted armor unable to handle the call of the other worldly gale any longer. With a yell he flew back, sailing through the portal.

The lighting stopped, and with it the portal slowly collapsed in upon itself, until it popped out of existence with a small release in pressure, and the blood covered room was dark and silent once more.


	2. Chapter I

**Tenash: Well here you go friend. Hope it sparks your interest.**

* * *

The first thing Brother Drakken noticed upon reopening his eyes was the lack of light from any sort of eldritch portal or foul daemons screaming at him. Within the second he took in a vast number of things, such as the lack of the terrible screaming alongside the now flashing runes on his helmet's hud. Several pieces of his armor were giving incoming reports of the previous strain put upon them and had led to sort of delayed feedback, even though the danger had long passed, or had it? The warp was a fickle place after all, and even the smallest of warp sorceries could trick the mind.

Brother Drakken pushed himself from the concrete like floor of the dark room, having noticed he had somehow landed face down. Upon reaching a standing position he looked around the room, slowly taking in the details of the catacomb like structure until his eyes fell upon the outlines that lay upon the ground. Instantly his helmet's lenses cycled to night vision. The green glow that was previously darkness allowed for a more intense inspection of the chamber. The previous outlines were actually figures, cloaked in flowing robes. The catacomb supports were stone, etched with thousands of runes. Turning his head slowly, Drakken managed to spot only one exit to the chamber, a great wooden door supported by iron divots. His small inspection came to a close right as the figures in robes started to stir with a few groans. Instantly, his bolt pistol was in his hand, aimed at the nearest figure as it started to pick itself up.

The figure was nigh oblivious to the two and a half meter tall giant before him, slowly standing up and brushing at the front of his robes at some imaginary dirt and even going so far to call out to his comrades before even looking up. His comrades all rang out an okay, picking themselves up from the floor as well, unable to see through the all consuming darkness of the now unlit chamber. A few gathered their inner powers to create globes of blue eldritch light, raising them to hover just above themselves. The light that emanated from the orbs cast long shadows across the room, leaving the walls and far corners still encased in darkness. The one thing that the orbs did reveal different from the chamber was the massive figure in the center, covered in armor as black as night, save for the two pauldrens, aiming what appeared to be a massive firearm in the direction of the nearest member. Drakken, resolute and confirmed that his newest targets were now vile heretic sorcerers, settled upon the trusted tactic to deal with them, by exterminating them to the very last.

The resulting actions happened in a blur. The first thing was the group of mages recognizing that the figure in the middle of them was definitely hostile, the glowing crimson eyes and large firearm doing nothing to help persuade anything else besides that notion. The next thing to happen was the collective screaming and yelling among the group, mainly the five mages screaming and their superior yelling at them to "Contain the Threat.", the figure in the center instantly turned to the one who shouted that, and before anyone else had even begun to move, fired his gun.

The sound that echoed through the chamber was deafening to the mages. Their superior, who was now lacking a head, and most of his upper chest for that matter, was flung a solid foot towards one of the mages, increasing their screaming. In the same instant the firearm wielding figure turned his sights unto the next mage and fired. The unlucky fellow had his chest removed with a loud crack, his organs and flesh exploding into a fine red mist above his legs. By now the remaining mages ran screaming, heading towards the door at the end of the chamber. The third mage fell but four meters from the door, his body flopping as it balanced out the lack of topside weight. The fourth fell a foot from the door, covering his fellows in a dark mist. The fifth had his body ripped in half by the next round right as the door was shoved open, allowing the sixth to escape into the hall. Drakken re-holstered his bolt pistol before charging after the fleeing heretic, who had begun screaming for help in the hall, no doubt alerting his foul kin of the Space marine's presence.

As the remaining mage fled down the halls of the Institute, he wildly looked around in search of anything or anyone to save him from the monster that had been summoned in the catacombs. Rounding a sharp corner he was met with a staircase, the top of it revealing another door, this one leading to the main grounds. The mage, still screaming, ascended the stairs, un aware of how fast his attacker was gaining upon him, or for the massive glowing sword that replaced the large weapon. With an almost ecstatic look upon his features, the sixth mage hauled open the door, with a massive yell, catching the attention of the few figures in the main grounds. He was about to take a step forward before he heard a very deep bellow from behind him.

 **"NO PITY! NO REMORSE! NO FEAR!"** Drakken bellowed out as he impaled his activated power sword into the torso of the heretical sorcerer in front of him. The smaller man released a gurgle, blood trickling out his mouth as the power sword was rammed through the back of his spine and out the center of his chest, raising him up as the blade fully buried itself at the hilt. Just as quickly, Drakken withdrew his sword, letting the body fall to the ground in front of his person, blood already pooling on the ground, the red ichor dripping from his hands. It was then he surveyed the area he had busted into.

Open to the sky, the area was akin to that of a lobby for some gigantic manufactorum. Turning the night vision on his lenses off he took close inspection of the rest of the area. It was too clean, too pristine looking to be the previous idea, supported by the fact that not a single techpriest or machine lying in sight. There was however, several different figures, each looking at him with varying degrees of shock. There were several more of the sorcerer's kin, though several of them wore different style robes, but amongst them were by far some of the oddest looking people. One of them was a large feline looking xenos, covered in leather armor, armed with several weapons and wearing what appeared to be a necklace of teeth. Another was a man, or rather mutant, for his skin was a contrast between blue and purple, who had what appeared to be runes etched into his skin carrying a large scroll on his back. The next was a woman who appeared to radiate sunlight, her armor made of what looked to be gold, even with his helmet Drakken could see the glare coming from her armor.

It did not matter what they looked like anymore, they were all targets in Drakken's eyes. The first thing to happen was for most of the sorcerers to disperse at the sight of their dead comrade, screaming as well despite their massive numeric superiority. The three odd ones however, did not turn like the sorcerers, instead deciding to turn and face Drakken with somewhat angered expressions, save for the feline, it decided to face him with and oddly wicked grin. It mattered not about their emotions for the mage and his kin that Drakken had slaughtered, they would stand and face him in honorable combat and they too would perish to his own might.

 **"ALL SHALL FALL BEFORE THE MIGHT OF THE IMPERIUM!"** He shouted, rushing forward, sword held in both hands and ablaze with power, quickly closing the gap between the trio and himself. The woman and the feline stepped forward, leaving the scroll wielder in the back. The woman raised her massive shield in a block while the feline skirted to the left, trying to flank. The enemy in the back opened a rather large tomb in his hand, channeling an eldritch blue akin to the sorcerers Drakken had slew mere seconds ago.

Drakken closed the gap within three seconds, his power sword slamming into the raised shield of the woman. Surprising for him however, was the shield held against the ancient might of his power sword, the blade and its power field leaving a small streak in the metal that had burned the previous bright gold color to a crispy black. Though the sheild was mainly unharmed, the woman herself was heavily staggered by the double handed blow, having been dropped to a knee and slid a few feet back. Drakken was about to push aside the girl in an attempt to attack the magic weilder, whose odd runes had begun to glow as he channeled his magical powers when a hard impact slammed into his right shoulder, and spark flew as a crude dagger was drug across his pauldren.

Turning to face the offsetting attack, Drakken merely stole a glace of the strange feline xenos as it tried to encircle him , trying to approach him once again, this time from behind. Unfortunately for the xenos, it had underestimated its supposed prey, and with his right gauntlet spun and backhanded the foul creature across the face. With a surprised cry and the sound of a crushed jawbone the xenos went sailing, landing a good ten feet away from Drakken, leaving him to focus on the two remaining combatants. Unfortunately for Drakken, the mage had finished his spell, slamming it's book closed as he forced the glowing orb of magic at him. Alongside the sorcery, the woman that had one second of relief from Drakken's assault regained her posture and with great haste, slammed her shield into him.

The blow from the shield did little to push him back, but it was the eldritch sorceries from the mage that had formed a prison around his persona of solid blue power. The mage held both his hands up, no doubt having to channel his power constantly to contain Drakken's superhuman might. It was at this second that the sorceries that had either fled the area or taken cover rose and begun running towards the blue mutant. It was also joined in that second where Drakken used his free hand to re-equip his bolt pistol and send to shots sailing towards the mage.

The first went a little wide, leaving a streak past the mutants ear as it sailed past him and into one of the sorcerers that was approaching from behind, covering two of his colleagues in blood, electing screaming from the two of them. The second bolt however, was closer to home, nailing the book that had fallen to the mutant's side, the massive leather book containing the bolt until it combusted, shredding the book but also loosening the mage's concentration as he yelled in panic. The loss of concentration collapsed the prison that withheld Drakken, causing him to rush forward and slice at the mutant's head. The mutant was fast however and managed to duck in the nick of time, causing the power sword to merely slice the top three inches of the scroll on the man's back. Drakken followed up in time however with bolt pistol, and the hand that held it, to smash into the man's chest, cracking several ribs with a horrible noise to the collective persons gathered.

"Face The Sun!" The woman shouted, raising her golden sword into the air a small beam of light travelling directly upward. Drakken followed the beam only to have his eyes widen a second latter as a gigantic ray of sunlight smashed down onto him. Even with his genetically enhanced eyes and the protection of the helmet's lenses, the raw sunlight blinded him for several second, making his swing out wildly as the returning sorcerers and mutant surrounded him and imprisoned him once again. With the added sorcery, the magical cage like structure became thick enough to block the swing of Drakken's sword and the rounds of his bolt pistol. Drakken regained his sight right as the world around him was encased in solid eldritch blue.

This new sight elicited a string of curses and litanies from Drakken, revealing himself to be powerless to the situation. Thousands of possibilities ran through his head as he thought of what horrible torture awaited him at the hands of the foul heretics. His ideas seemed to be confirmed as he felt the caged being levitated off the ground, moving him along above the heads of the sorcerers. Unknown to him, the surrounding sorcerers were terrified of the black figure encased by the magic of more than twenty men. They stared with horrified eyes as the litanies and curses increased in fervor, each of them branding them individually as traitors, heretics, and meant to die the most horrible death deemed of those who defied the Emperor and The Imperium.

Though have of the statements barely made sense to the collective persons, they all questions what the "Imperium" was and who this Emperor the figure referred to. Surely the figure did not speak of the current proclaimed Emperor that resided in the Institute. It would be odd if that was such, for the figure encased in black except for his shoulder armor seemed highly unlikely to serve the same person. That deduction made it seem wise to interrogate the figure and contain it, in hopes of learning where it was from and why it was here. Hopefully, if they could reason with the nightmarish being, that they would not would not suffer the same fate as their comrades in the catacombs. Escorted by the woman and the now conscious feline, the procession made its way through the Institute, to a chamber deep within its magical walls.

* * *

 **Author's Note: So real quick here, I won't be doing many notes. I'm going to probably roll these out between every 10 to 15 days apart. I'm sorry for these short chapters however, trying to set the stage early I feel is the hardest part. That and I have a bit of other things going on. To those of you following the story thanks, I really appreciate it. If you have any criticism or tips for me, or if I get something totally wrong with Warhammer 40k lore (Unlikely) I would love to be informed so I can either correct my mistakes or just try and work with it in my writing. This will be my first official fanfiction, but I have been doing writing for a few years now and I really want to expand my boundaries. Nothing much besides that, but I will tell you the story jumps around a bit, we'll be including different members from the Inquisitorial party each with their own little bits. Also if any of you want to know what chapter our Deathwatch friend is, check his first line.**


	3. Chapter II

**On time as promised, as well as being a bit longer.**

* * *

Kasrkin Sergeant Apheal was not having a very good day. It wasn't much different from the rest of his days to be honest, he woke up, still realized that he was on some piss poor hive world because his commanding officer was doing his "Inquisitorial duty" of trying to figure out if the current nobility and government were somehow corrupted or traitors. Not real different from the last five worlds except that no one had to be shot at the very beginning. The daily routine was started but before more than a few minutes had passed his boss had ended up knocking on the door and saying there was fifteen minutes to suit up before they ventured into the under hive to go purge some fragging cultist.

Now, instead of sitting back at base waiting for his boss to finish off talks with the local government and brass while drinking a nice cool beverage of local asmec he was stuck in an Emperor forsaken cavern of who knows what location. It would have been a bit more easier to handle, even with the blazing warp portal had sent him here, if he had arrived alone. But no, fate would not give him just some leeway. Of all the people in the Inquisitor's retinue he had to be stuck with the Techpriest.

Now don't get him wrong, Techpriest are great. They keep all the machines in the Imperium in function and are a great help most of the time, even if it was hard to listen to, or even look at them for not even being more than half human anymore. Most of Apheal's time with a Techpreist was before being "drafted" into the Inquisition was around the enginseers of his parental regiment, The Cadian 358th. They were probably the most human like of the machine men bunch, mainly due to them being necessarily incorporated into Guard culture due to them being the best weapon and vehicle mechanics around. That was, if you didn't commit tech heresy or somehow offend the shit out of them. The rest of the Adeptus Mechanicus however, were the creepy Techpriest that most likely spent their time studying in a factory or finding lost archeotect and love to basically alienate every human part to their body, transforming themselves into really scary Fraggers in dark red robes with machine skulls. These also happened to be the bunch who love to make your every day joe into servitors for not nothing but "Being a useless flesh bag is an affront to the Omnissiah."

Unfortunately for Sergeant Apheal, he was stuck with the latter of the two. Apheal had never liked the creepy looking metal man in the first place, but never voiced his oppinions due to being a part of the Inquisitors retinue himself but also for the underlying feeling that if he said anything against the servant of the Omnissiah he would end up as a mindless servitor himself, with or without his boss's permission. Thankfully he didn't have that underlying feeling right now due to the Techpriest being distracted. Though what he was distracted about was probably the most infuriating thing that Apheal had ever dealt with. Instead of dealing with the fact that both of their locators and short range comms were absolutely scrambled by who knows what, or figuring out how to exit the cavern such as how Apheal was doing at the moment he was stopping every few meters to examine the walls and slight layer of dirt that was on the stone floor.

He was studying fucking dirt.

So instead of confronting the techpriest in a reasonable manner, he instead turned and marched towards the machine man with an expression that could melt the armor off a Leman Russ. Upon reaching his comrade that was a mere five feet away, he tapped the man upon his shoulder and waited for the priest to turn around. The techpriest merely spun about, his forward vox speaker crackling with life to speak with Apheal.

"What is it flesh bag, don't you see that I am trying to-" The techpriest got no further in his upcoming statement as Apheal's armored fist slammed into the faceplate of the mechanical man. Though techpriest are often augmented with some of the hardest steel and ceramite our fellow had been foolish enough not to go into battle wearing the standard battle armor of the Mechanicus, instead opting for a much lighter and skinnier looking battle plate. This is why the Kasrkin's fist managed to knock out the adept instead of merely annoying him. The Kasrkin however, recoiled his fist with a few swears before reaching down to the now fallen adept to grab onto his free servo arm.

With a sigh and roll of the eyes, Sergeant Apheal began to trudge down the tunnel , dragging the adept by his left hand, his under slung plasma gun held by the right sweeping the corridors for hostiles.

* * *

"Finally" Apheal spoke aloud as he slowly began ascending what appeared to be the final slope, light peaking over the lip of the slope. With an exasperated heave both the adept and Apheal cleared the top of the rise, revealing the long sought entrance to the tunnel. All it had taken was two hours of marching through dark corridors of dirt and stone with only his helmet light and the glow of his plasma gun, but they had finally made it.

"Can you put me down now flesh bag?" The adept called out to the Sergeant, who had been holding his servo arm and dragging him despite the adept waking back up thirty minutes into the walk. It had only taken fifteen minutes more for the adept to realize that no matter how much complaining or even polite asking, the man was not going to release him till the end of the journey. Now, his arm tired from dragging the metal man simply released the servo arm and by extension, the adept, who fell back to the dirt beneath the two before straitening himself. "I will have to report to the Inquisitor about this infringement of Mechanicum personnel." The adept spoke brushing the dirt off his robes as he looking to Apheal who was looking out at his surroundings instead of the Techpriest.

"Well you go ahead and do that, soon as we find the Inquisitor, or for a matter of fact where the hell we are, cause last time I checked we did not leave the hive for some agri-world." Apheal spoke back to the adept, a harsh tone about him as he gazed out towards the landscape. The Kasrkin spoke true, for the once sprawling and cramped cave system had deposited them out into some lush and expansive fields, full of flowers and trees, unlike the underhive as they expected. Apheal breathed deeply, expecting the naturalistic world before them to be some kind of trickery or warp illusion, only to find the air he breathed to completely free of any chemicals or smoke. Warp take him, there wasn't even a damned daemon or cultist in sight, only a few animals and seemingly harmless wildlife.

So it was reasonable that a man that had more of three decades of fighting the forces of the warp and treacherous xenos scum would raise his plasma gun and fired on the nearest wildlife. The blob of plasma sailed through the air, releasing a hissing sound before it landed on its intended target. The small four legged creature screamed out in pain and terror, its skin melting under the superheated mass of blue energy. The rest of the wildlife in the area immediately scattered in fear, running as far they could, leaving the area quite and bare.

"Welp, seems like they're real. Glad they weren't some daemonic trick. Or frakking eldar, Emperor knows they can pull of some mind trick bullshit." Apheal said, lowering his plasma gun in satisfaction. The adept simply sighed, weary of dealing with a blundering and rather simple flesh bag. The two scanned the area with their eyes, looking for anything might give clue to where they were. The area they had walked into was plains like, foot tall grass, a few trees here and there with several types of flowers and small rocks scattered around continuing to the north and east, to the south and west of them, towered a mountain range, as far as the eye could see. The cave the two had ascended from just minutes ago was at the very base, a few hours away from the snow capped peaks it seemed.

"Come on, let's get higher, we need to get a location or something." Apheal called out to his comrade who was bent over inspecting the ground a few feet away. The adept rose at the procession of moving.

"For once I agree with you fleshling." The mechanical man responded back.

"Could you stop it with the whole 'Fleshbag' thing you got going on? It unnerves people you know?"

"Fine, lead the way." The adept raised his hand forward, motioning for Apheal to move upward, pathing up the mountainside. One foot in front of the other, maybe a hand in some places, the pair slowly gained speed as they trekked up the mountain. Onwards and upwards they went, only stopping after a few hours so that Apheal could affix his helmet to not having to worry about the thinner air. The adept remained unhindered by the change and had been collecting small samples the entire time, looking for anything important amongst the surface of the planet. The sun had just begun waning when they finally stopped.

Looking over the valley to the east, Apheal cast his eyes about in search of any form of civilization. "I don't know where to begin. One minute we're purging cultist in the underhive and now we're in a completely clean and seeming un-inhabited valley and mountain range. " Apheal spoke. His comrade once again looked up at him from his position just a bit further down the path.

"I'd advise we descend before nightfall, the reason being that we have no survival equipment, and we have not even reached the peak of the mountains, they still lie above cloud level." Apheal looked behind him, away from the talking techpriest to gaze upward and agree with the fact that mountain stretched farther upwards.

"Why not try and find a way around? See if we could descend to the other side before night fall?" He gazed back down at his companion while voicing the option.

"While I do admire your suicidal instinct to attempt to cross a mountain range in fading daylight, my calculations show that just traversing the rest of the range would take a day at least, and who knows if we can get down the other side." The techpreist let out, an exasperated sigh at his comrade's own basic line of thought. "There is however, if you use your helmet's binocs, to the east of our exact position lies a city. I cannot see the details of the place but it looks advanced enough to be a hub of some local trade, maybe even a small spaceport. There we can most likely find out where we are." He raised his metalic arm, facing dead east.

"What's the distance?" Apheal asked, looking towards the direction the adept had pointed. Sure enough, hugging the skyline there appeared to be a city, several buildings of moderate height. Though Techpriest may be annoying, they are often never wrong. "My helm has a range finder, but not to your own degree I believe."

"A high possibility." The techpriest responded, how the metal man was able to sound smug with a vox for a voice box Apheal had no idea, but the emotion died almost as instantly as it had appeared. "My own rangefinder has given me a fair estimate of around 163 Kilometers from here. If we travel at a marching paste and take adequate time to rest and replenish ourselves, we should arrive in around three days time. Apheal smiled at this. At least now he had directions and some semblance of an objective.

"Good, that means we can make it in two days and a half." He said, turning around to start descending the path.

"Two and half days? What are you trying to do fleshbag, ruin my machine spirits?" The adept turned, looking at the Sergeant who had begun descending the mountainside with what could only be concern.

"I'm more worried about where in the name of the Emperor we are than your fraggin feet Scrap Metal." Apheal yelled back, not halting his rapid descent of the mountain.

" Omnissiah preserve me." The adept spoke to no one in particular, before descending the mountainside in hopes to catch up to his swift companion.

* * *

The actual trip towards the city was uneventful. The two barely spoke to one another, and only one had to actually eat substance. Wildlife was caught, survival training was repeated, and an unsettling paranoia crept up upon Apheal. It was not the good kind either, Murphy's law style as in when things are going this well shit will eventual hit the fan. However, it seems the paranoia was just a mindset, for nothing attacked them on their march. In what appeared no time at all the they two stood before the sprawling outskirts of the city.

The two slowed their pace as they walked down the paved streets full of walking citizens and workers, past hover cars and servitors. What was unusual was each citizen seemed to be wearing some very colorful and interesting outfits, almost as if they were nobility by themselves. The one particular thing besides how clean and colorful the city is, was the lack of any Imperial architecture, or Aquilas for that matter. Both men soon found their inner paranoia sparking as they slowly walked around the city. Their first problem came swiftly after.

They had barely been in the city for five minutes before they were stopped by a servitor in bright blue clothing. The machine also had a cap upon its head, and a badge of office. Apheal, having long ago removed his helmet, ran his eyes over the words "Piltover Police Force". An odd name for a city but the uniform was even odder. The servitor didn't even have any forms of equipment on it besides a baton and what appeared to be a stun gun. Hopefully the Arbiters were better equipped. The servitor faced Apheal, before speaking.

"Hello sir, I do not believe I have seen you before, but I must inform you open possession of a weapon in urban areas is a violation of the strict anti-violent pact. If you have a permit I must request it for validation and ask you to follow me to the station for personal identification applications." The machine vocalized in a light robotic tone, looking at the two equally shocked men. Apheal barely got the chance to respond before a servo arm reached over and electrocuted the servitor's neck. The machine fell back unmoving as the volts coursed through its system. Apheal turned to his machine comrade in concern.

"What the frag was that!? Why in the name of the Emperor would you taze a local police servitor?" He nearly screamed at the techpriest. The nearby civilians cleared out as things started to take a turn for the worst.

"Listen here fool. That was not a servitor! That was an Omnissiah damned Man of Iron! To create such beings as artificial intelligence is against the will and law of the Machine God! EVERYONE HERE IS A HERETIC!" The adept screamed at his partner, shocking the man with his raging expression. Just then however, the sirens made themselves heard. Both men suddenly turned as two more Men of Iron rounded the corner, reaching to draw their weapons as they rushed forwards.

They made it a mere three feet before a ball of plasma sailed at the two, melting their uniforms and through their entire upper chest. The bodies didn't even hit the ground before both of the men had started sprinting down the block, heading deeper into the city with the sounds of sirens closing in. They made it past three blocks before the first hover car swooped down behind them, sirens of blue and red casting light at their heels as they tried to turn into alleyways to shake their pursuers. The chase continued into the center of the city.

By now the two had gather what appeared the entire police force around them, with several cars behind them and more spreading out into alleyways with their robotic officers. The two didn't even realize when they sprinted into the city square that they had been surrounded. The two put themselves back to back, plasma gun raised and prepared to fire, a spare laspistol in the hands of his partner. The two did managed to notice none of the robots had begun firing weapons at them, waiting for something to happen. They were about to open fire when a loud feminine voice broke through the surrounding noise.

"Put your weapons down and surrender, we have you surrounded, you will not be harmed." The voice spoke out, waiting for their reactions.

"What's proof that you won't just have a shot afterwards?" Apheal yelled back, eyes dropping down towards the red dot that had suddenly appeared on his chest before snapping his head back up, looking for the sniper.

"For the fact this is Piltover, and that we believe in Humanity over here in this part of the world." The speaker said, her tone bearing confidence of a person who had won.

"And by humanity you mean breaking the Pact of Mars and recreating Men of Iron?" The adept suddenly shouted back, his voice layered with anger.

"The fuck is Mars and Men of Iron boy-o? What world are you even living on to create stuff like that?" The speaker asked, voiced layered with confussion.

"They don't know of Mars? Of the Dark Ages? Just where the frak are we?" Apheal whispered, trying to make sense of the situation

"They have to be heretics, or some sort of Dark Mechanicum allies. There is no way they do not know of the laws." The techpriest whispered back, anger still in his voice.

"You done with your little chat or am I gonna have to order the boys here to subdue you two trouble makers?" The speaker said, the confusion whipped from her voice. The two gazed around, watching as a few more Men of Iron enclosed them into the center, backed by human officers. Apheal didn't like his chances, but hopefully they could survive this without violence. Slowly he lowered his arms, un-slinging the plasma gun, nudging his fellow in the back to also lower his own weapon.

The adept grumbled something about bad ideas and traitors before lowering his own weapon slowly to the ground beneath his robes. The two, now appearing weaponless before the surrounding defenders. "Glad you two came to your senses, was kinda hoping I would have to come out there and beat it into you." The speaker said. In front of the two, the officers spread apart revealing a woman holding a megaphone in her oversized gauntlets. Both the men were taken aback by the apparent leader of the officers. She was dressed in an odd assortment of cloths which somehow matched her bright pink hair that was shaven on one side of head. A small tattoo rested below her right eye, a VI.

"So what the hell are you two ruffians doing in a place like Piltover?"

* * *

 **Author's note: Told you it would be done. To be honest with all of you I will be slamming these out in the objective of getting all of our OC's and main characters into place. I also have no fragging clue on where I'm going to be spawning in the rest of the team. Right now on the Field there is Deathwatch Brother Drakken from the Black Templars, Kasrkin Sergeant Apheal from the 314th Cadian Heavy infantry, and Techpriest Klavius of the Cult Mechanicum. In the next few chapters there will be The Inquisitor, an adept of some sort, a Adeptus Sorita, a Death Korps of Krieg Field Medic, and a Imperial psyker. Hope you all enjoy and I will see you all again on the 16Th.**


	4. Chapter III

**My apologies for this being so late. (Respective things to their respective owners, you know the deal.)**

* * *

The wind whispered quietly over her head, the breeze bringing with it the smell of the sea, and cherries. She attempted to open her eyes, but found to her dismay they were held shut, not by any life form but by something none the less horrible most likely. She raised her arms slowly, checking for any possible resistance, waiting for any retaliations against her acts of free will. Through a minute of cautious approach and hesitant waiting, her hands finally reached just under her eyes. Though her flesh was unblemished from birth and even her time in service, it was not that way now. Several trails of hard crust ran down her face, along her checks and cut off at the edge of her chin. They were familiar though, it had happened before. At a slow pace she began to dig her gloves into the rough textures coating her face, slowly pulling them away in an attempt to not agitate her skin.

Her hands arrived just above her eyes, their task almost complete in restoring her skin back to its natural state. With some hesitation she reached forward for the last time, and begun to remove the final pieces that had welded her eyes shut so efficiently. With a tug and a small amount of grunting in pain, the residue was removed, and cast to the ground underneath her, letting her eyes unfurl and granting her sight upon the world.

In front of her lay the sea, reaching far and wide, the breeze rising strait at her, the curved lip that gave her sight revealed that she rested high above the water, atop a cliff of medium size. She rose from her position, soft grass curling around her booted feet in longing of her presence. She twirled slightly, her heavy robes being barely lifted by the action, getting a feel for the area. To her right lay the continuation of the cliff, which slowly began to shift downward, soon reaching the beech where deep blue water meet endless white sand. To her left stretched the edge, grassland, flowers and small flying creatures swirling in the wind, their colors revealing a rainbow of wonderful color. Behind her lie perhaps the most wonderful thing, a glorious forest, full of trees some short and thin with glorious pink leafs and dark bark, the others tall and wide, white bark covering them and their light green leaves as they grew up to reach the sky. The forest was not thick enough to have large amounts of under growth, but was none the less beautiful, the breeze taking fallen leaves and swirling them in small whirlwinds of fast moving petals and color. It was breath taking. It was paradise, and she loved it.

"I must be dead." She spoke aloud, to no one in particular, for not a soul was around. Her eyes scanned the area once again, looking for anything un-natural, any sign of Imperial architecture or even person. She slowly sank down, her head bowed, allowing her long blonde locks to fall over her face. She ran her hands through them on the left side, a habit of hers when sorrow approached. The red crust and residue shuffled in the wind, holding onto the grass in final moments to see themselves be replaced by a clear substance that ran down the woman's first a small trail etched down by a single one, to then followed by countless more, till it as no longer a trail but rather a waterfall of tears. Her small frame ran out with muffled cries and sobs, wondering how fate had gotten ridden of her. She knew deep down inside that she was the death of her comrades, for not being quick enough to stop the portal, not being strong enough to shield them. Her sobs grew louder, echoing around the cliff in an orchestra of despair.

Her cries did not go un-noticed however, as a black shadow seemed to peel itself off the trees from the edge of the forest. It circled around the tree, standing less than 50 feet from the woman. The shadow approached, shadows peeling off to give form to the stature of a man, tall and intimidating. His coat reached all the way down past his knees, the color of starless night. He wore a helmet and a mask, his face covered by the breathing apparatus, a heavy cord reaching down and over the side of his jacket which was left open to reveal a shinning breastplate. His boots landed against the ground, steps almost silent beneath the background breeze. His mask, stylized in the likes of a skull, tilted just slightly to the side, the person beneath deep within thought. Almost unconsciously his right arm pulled back, slowly reaching down towards the belt where a bulky sword laid. Pulling forward, the sword left its place, carried upwards by the arm. The blade was slowly tilted forward, resting to where the tip was faced nearly forward, or where the tip would be, if the sword was of the most standard design. This was not, the marvelous chain sword laid at rest, the small sharp blades embedded along the blade side immobile, waiting to be put into action once more. For now though, they were slightly covered with specks of blood, revealing evidence of a battle not long passed.

The shadow slowly crept forward, sword aimed at the woman in the unlike ability that she decided to test it. Though no particular studier of the woman or those of her ilk, he knew that at any moment that she could become dangerous, an unholy vortex of destruction, resulting in the deaths, or worse, enslavement of those around her, especially after an event as traumatic as the one shared but minutes ago. Though he had not been conscious for most of the journey, the shadow understood what had happened, and he knew caution was of the best order, least he test fate and lose his life and his soul. He kept pace, slowly closing the gap between himself and the woman, till he was but ten feet away. The woman shifted, her crying still unchanged, but did not take notice of the shadow's close presence. He shifted to the off foot, drawing the sword back and raising his left arm, along with its sanctified tool.

Under the shadow of the trees, it would have been hard to make out, but the shadow's entire dark and deep color scheme was interrupted by three things. The first was upon his right shoulder, imprinted into the steel plates that lay upon his shoulder. It was tree red squares, laid atop each other at a diagonal angle, resulting in an almost diamond shape. The imprint was set upon two white wings, similar to that of an angel. The secondary incursion was atop the opposite plate on the other shoulder, where instead of any markings or regiment number lie a stylized capital I, struck through in the center by three parallel dashes lay, creating the symbol to be black. The entire symbol was outlined in red, with a few small litanies resting underneath. Within the eye, on top of the dashes was a skull, not tattooed into the plate but actual made into it, leaving a rise in the shoulder, that of a small human's skull. The last incursion was what lay strapped to the shadow's arm, his tool of office.

It was a forearm mount, braced in durasteel and lined with ceramite. It encased a display up towards the shadow, readouts and scanner feedback relaying that from the receivers just below the wrist. On the far side, facing away from the man an pointing forward lay that of a sword bladed saw, similar to the sword the shadow held tight but lacking a guard along its tipped edge. Needles and small flat points lay along side, farther back as inspectors and scanners. The machine held a variety of small blinking lights along the case, covered in a clear white. The entire thing had been recently cleaned, a small shine resting to it unlike the weapon within the shadow's hand. A large drill head lay underneath the bladed part, stretching out past the shadow's gloved hand. The glorious piece of equipment laid at rest, waiting to be activated at a moment's notice.

"Death or healing, which do you seek?"

The shadow's voice carried out above the crashing waves, deep and masculine, its word heavy and purposeful, ready to act upon the answer of the question. The woman halted her crying, looking up finally at the shadow that lay in front of her, brushing her hair away from her eyes as she tried to halt the endless sniffling. Resting her weary and bloodshot eyes on the shadow, her eyes taking in its features. Recognition pushed past despair and clouded mind to put together the familiarity of the shadow. Both robe and coat flapped in the wind as the two starred at each other, the wind picking up.

"Are you unable of speech? Are your cognitive skills impaired?" The shadow spoke once again, looking down upon the woman, his eyes already attempting to analysis if she was able to receive the emperor's blessing or whether she would be able to fight on. Fate took an odd turn when a small smile cracked into existence upon the woman's face, small laughter escaping her lips as she stood upwards on shaky legs.

"It's good to see you Mal" She said, the joy in her voice suddenly over shadowing her recent despair. The shadow, no proclaimed as "Mal" by the woman took a half step backward as the woman rose, lowering his stance, his mask no longer tilted to the side. He was taken by surprise as she rushed forward, as in an attempt to crush him. He barely had time to move his hands upward so that neither the sword nor his tool of office strike her. Though her grasp was not constraining enough to cause damage, Mal was still put off by the actions of the woman in front of him. He had already compiled a number of reasons for her actions. Warp trauma was perhaps the most prominent reason he could think of and considering the patient at the moment was a high leveling psyker, he decided to just keep calm, and hope a warp daemon didn't decide to make itself into existence through her soul.

The wind struck both them, the breeze picking up around the entwined comrades. Mal stood stock still, his weapons raised above his head almost in that of surrender, if he understood the term. The woman, her body wracked with small sniffles and now the return of some tears as she leaned into her embrace around Mal, though these were not tears of despair or pain, rather those of joy for finding one of her comrades, neigh, friends (If it was possible to identify a Death Korps Grenadier as one)in this strange place. As the though ran across her mind however, she stiffened, halting her embrace.

"Where are we? Last thing I remember was the warp portal, and then the awful screaming and warpfire." She asked, looking straight up into Mal's mask. He lowered his arms, thankful to being released from the ecstatic psyker. Considering his own memory on the matter, he simply shrugged, signifying a "I have no clue" much to the disappointment of the woman. The two looked around, still put out by their surroundings.

"So I'm guessing that you have no idea where the rest of the retinue is, or the inquisitor is for that matter?" She asked, hesitance creeping into her words as she prepared for the worst answer. Mal's helmet shook side to side, his answer apparent and even though she already knew what the answer was it still brought a crease to her brow and sorrow to her eyes. "Well... Frakk." Mal leaned a small bit back at this, never before having heard the woman swear before. He personally hoped that she did not make it a habit. His eyes however, caught at the lip of the clip, revealing dark clouds, run through by forks of lighting at periodic times. He tapped the psyker's shoulder, pointing behind her. She turned, looking out to the sea and nodded in agreement, already knowing what Mal had planned. She turned back around at Mal, who had already begun to march away towards the forest. She began to pick up the pace, catching up to the edge of the forest right as Mal stopped, where he then stooped low against the side of one of the trees to grab something. Before the woman could even lean forward to question what he was after, a pole stood a mere foot in front of her, held up straight by Mal's unwavering hand.

This however, was no pole, for it was the woman's treasured staff, part of her being as it was. The smooth wooden pole stood at Mal's height, looming over the shorter woman who carried it. The bottom half was fitted with a steel guard, made for walking over most surfaces and protected the food from wear and tear. The center of the staff was wrapped in leather, acting as handhold akin to that of a walking stick, making it easier to grasp. Along the shaft lay small floras of paper, picked up by the rising wind, each one imprinted with litanies and prayers, protections and wards against the horrible forces of the warp. The top of the staff was capped by an enlarged symbol , the exact same as the one resting upon Mal's left shoulder pad. The only difference was that the skull that resided in the center was replaced by an enlarged eye, which flickered odd light every once and awhile. Atop the Sigil rest a double headed eagle, a motif spread across both of the persona's armor and robes. The staff was weapon, as well a buoy, meant to be a bulwark against the warp as well as weaponize its powers.

Re-united with her staff, the scowl previously worn was completely annihilated, replaced by a beautiful smile, She reached out, grasping the smooth wood with one hand before pulling it from Mal's retreating hand. She raised it up a bit, inspecting the staff for any cracks or blemishes that may have occurred during the passing. It shone, perfect and reflective like the day it had been made. Bring it back down, she looked to Mal and nodded her head once, conveying her thanks to the Guardsman. He gave no reply, turning abruptly and begun a marching pace into the forest. The woman looked over her shoulder at the cliff, watching the dark clouds hat rolled above, slowly closing in on the land. She turned back around, once again sprinting to catch up with the swift moving Grenadier.

* * *

Thirty minutes into their march had the rain started, at first a small speckle at a time as the clouds moved closer and closer. Soon the rain came swiftly, increasing by the second until a torrential down-pour erupted from the sky. The rain did not hinder the duo however, the woman casting a shield around their persona, the rain deflecting and sliding off in waves. The breeze shoved against the trees and shield alike, the branches far above wavering like sails in the wind. Each hard wave of air sent a small ripple along the shield, drawing forth designs and enigmas in the dark light. Soon however, the light had faded from the sky, descending upon them as the sun slowly began its decent somewhere. An hour later the duo were encased in darkness, save for the flashlight mounted upon Mal's helmet. The light shone back and forth, sweeping the area . They continued for a little while longer, until the trees decided to spread out, marking the end of the forest, and the beginning of a wide field, full of tall grass. On the horizon in front of them, stood the outline of buildings, their roofs given away by small fires.

The woman looked to Mal, her concern clear. Those were no ordinary fires.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Once again I'm sorry for this being late, last week has been a bit more stressful with certain things in my life, alongside the fact that I completely Fragged my sleep schedule. NO excuses for my actions, just a few explanations. As a reward to the faithful I shall be putting out a longer chapter on the 26th as repentance for my tardiness, which will include our final three characters. After that we begin the fun stuff. I gotta say the set up is really hard to write, all the boring stuff needing to be pushed up front so we can have all sorts of ideas and branch-offs of reasonable degree latter. IF you guys can tell me where Mal and the Psyker are, I'll be very thankful, hopefully I described the scene well enough. If not you'll know in four chapters. Also, the scene of chapters, to add on to the plotline and the way things work I will be putting it into segments; First chapter is Drakken, the next Apheal and the Techpriest, the third on the psyker and Mal, and the fourth on Jordis, the adept, and the Sister of Battle. The chapters will be looped from that arrangement. Any reviews or responses are welcome, and if you have any questions just PM me (Within reason). See you all on the 26th!**


	5. Chapter IV

The humid and calm air of the jungle was filled with a serene song of life. Local fauna, their colors vibrant and distracting swung slightly in the wind. Wildlife echoed around the dense and lush trees in a near hypnotic melody. Hues of all color fought for dominance on the jungle floor, spreading upwards and outwards in the endless contest for light. Trees as tall as towers loomed overhead, sloping and bending to create an infinite green canopy. Beams of light shine downed in clearings, small patches of dirt laying untouched by the plant life of the jungle. The greatness of the place made the jungle seem nearly living itself.

All of that was shattered in nearly an instant.

In one of such clearings a tear in reality opened, swirling to the height of a single story, controlled by some outer worldly force. Twisted and unholy screams quaked through the great forest, the un natural light casting hues over the surrounding plant life, over casting both light and noise from the surrounding jungle. Out of all the screams came three larger ones, overcastting the twisted and unnatural ones, their sound growing closer as the portal contracted and convulsed. Suddenly, three forms were delivered from the portal, spit out onto the ground beneath them. The three bodies scattered, laid into the dirt, their screams silent.

The portal, its contents now removed, shook and convulsed for a final time before slowly absorbing itself, growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared with a reality returning "pop". The unholy screams and unnatural light disappeared with the absence of the portal, returning the jungle atmosphere to normal save for the lack of sound.

* * *

The pounding sensation in the back of my head was neigh unbearable. Travel through the warp was easier to handle, due to the Gellar Field aboard the ships, but unrestrained, it was near mind splitting. When one travels in the warp, out of mind, it is merely horrors that one normal person who feel and see. For a psyker such as myself, the danger became magnified a thousand-fold, for the instant you stepped out into the Immaterium, your very mind and spirit became a battlefield. If I was man of lesser mind and spirit, I may have become corrupted, or worse, a Daemon host.

My mind, though clouded, allows me some amount of control. My hands shift beneath my body, rubbing their way into the firm soil beneath their gloved tips. That is not right, for it should be cold steel and foul waters, not dirt and leaves. I raise my head up, tilting back to find myself laying nearly face down into the ground, that is not all however, for in my vision lies hues, hues of magnitude and greenery, reaching as far as my eyes can see. I see the bodies of trees, reaching up and up as my eyes follow them, until the loom above me. I twist my head, my eyes suddenly blinded by the bright light of the sun that reaches through an opening in the dark canopy. I raise my hand over them in a near mock salute, my eyes readjusting to such a glorious light. Truly I am a man blessed by the Emperor.

The humidity of the place washes over me, sweat beginning to flow from my pores as I sweep my eyes over the area. The jungle seems to stretch on forever, a natural mockery of the tunnels of the underhive. It comes crashing back to me, the underhive, the cultist, the fighting, and the portal. I swivel back and forth, my arms reaching for my weapons to find them not equipped on my belt. The sun beams down, light guiding my vision to my side just in time to hear a begotten moan. I look towards the source, only to have my worry replaced with relief as I rest my gaze upon Adept Brocuss Fewtun, my personal scribe and xenologist. His groaning was most likely due to the fact that he was face first in the dirt floor and his right arm was trapped underneath his body. I turn my face away from him to redirect my gaze upon the glint right beside me.

Sunk halfway into the land rest my Daemon Hammer, _Resounding Faith_. Forged on Mars and Sanctified on Holy Terra, its master crafted face lay at rest, its handle begging for it to be lofted once more. I answered its call, my gauntlets grasping the hammer before lifting it up to rest upon my shoulder pauldren. With my free hand I grasped my other tool of office, my personal Inferno pistol, which had laid beside the magnificent hammer. With my weapons with me once more I turn back to Brocuss, to find him raising himself up, slowly brushing away the dirt flakes that had dotted his cloak. He raises his head to look at me.

"Let us not have to go through that again Jordius, I for one prefer to have my soul and sanity intact when the Emperor calls to me." He says, finally finished with the cleaning of his robe. His face gives a small smile, which I share openly, glad to see one of my closest friends. The shuffling of brush behind me however cause my smile to slip away into a small crease across my face, my armored body turning towards the noise.

"I agree with the adept Inquisitor, I for one prefer to face my opponents on a physical level, that way the Emperor can smile down upon me for my purity." A female voice resounds from the brush as it is pushed apart by a figure covered in black armor accented by artistic white and red trimming. My smile returns to my scarred face.

"Well said Sister Catherine, I too prefer to face my opponent hand to hand rather than to rely on my 'gifts'." I say, watching as the woman in question approaches us in the center of the clearing, bolter at ease but her eyes no doubt scanning the area for threats underneath her helmet. Sister Catherine of the Ebon Heart was one of the newest members of my retinue, having served me for under 4 years. A Celestian of her Order, she was chosen to serve the inquisition when we called upon the Order. She has served me well, with unblemished purity and unrelenting fury against the enemies of The Emperor. Though she is well versed in multiple manners of combat, she truly excels at melee, her chainsword and bolt pistol ring an unstoppable force against the foe. I am glad to have her with me in this strange place, where ever we may be.

"Come then my friends, there is no time to waste! We shall address our current situation when we break free from this jungle" I say, my voice carrying over my comrades in some spectacle of bravado. Hefting my Daemon hammer further up my shoulder, I lead the march into the jungle, Cathrine and Broccus flanking me as we move through the fauna. I notice that our small reunion in the clearing had slowly broken through the silence of the forest, birds chirping and other creatures filling the void of silence that had come with our arrival. The sound of life put an easy to my thoughts.

* * *

My companions stayed near silent as we continued through the jungle, only breaking our voiceless time by a grunt or nod of thanks for moving something aside or offering to help if one tripped. I had passed into a deep form of trance as we moved through the undergrowth. I reflected upon our arrival to this lush place and what it could mean, I sought answers and prayed silently hoping that The Emperor could answer my questions. I began to question if there were any enemies to be had in the forest that could endanger us besides the local fauna. My trance seemingly ended when I heard a quite grumble come from Brocuss's stomach. I turned my head at him to see his face a small bit flushed in embarrassment.

"Hungry old friend?" I asked, slowing down my pace. I could already see the answer in his mind and his eyes, but I let him voice it for the sake of courteously. Our trek had been going for over three hours now as my chrono-meter had told me and I too was beginning to feel the hunger growing in my own stomach.

"Indeed I am old friend, though I do not know what would pass for edible in this jungle. I doubt that many creatures in this forest could survive without good honest food however. I will stretch out with my mind and attempt to gain knowledge of what passes for 'safe' in this seemingly un hostile place. " I speak, my voice fading as I reach out with my mind. Though I am not as powerful as my sanctioned psyker Belladonna, I have my tricks, such as the infiltration and ability to pick apart minds. I reach into the immaterium, using the power I draw forth with my very soul to expand my senses for miles around me. I can feel the forest beneath me, pulsing with life from thousands of different creatures and animals. My mind self slips like a snake through the twisting jungle trees around us searching for anything that has enough intelligence for basic thought. There, I see it, a pack of sparks, their souls dull amongst the over bearing encompass of the jungle.

A pack of simple primates, about a dozen strong, lay at rest amongst the jungle vines, their hands laying at rest around fruits as large as a fuel canister for my inferno pistol. Their sharp teeth open wide, stripping away the fleshy covering to get into the fruit beneath. The fruit is a bright orange, akin to that of a sun. Juices leak from the primates' mouths, dropping towards the jungle floor alongside discarded peals. I reach into their minds, trying to find a source of where these seemingly delicious fruits may grow. Sifting through the primates mind I recount their emotions mainly, easy enough to find the place where said fruits could be found. I latch onto it, seeing from the primate's eyes a large open area, a lake resting near a small water fall. The view allows me to gain a cursory glance at the area, where the trees break to allow a large amount of sunlight. It looks to be a perfect place to find out where we are. I whip my mind fully back to my body, coming out of my psykic induced trance.

"Come my friends, I have found suitable food and a place where we may unveil just were we may be." I say, turning sharply to lead my comrades to the lake. I shrug aside blankets of vines as I forge a quicker path towards the clearing. Though mind has retracted back into my body of flesh and blood I can still feel the psykic residue of my own passing, and of the souls surrounding us. My guard is not lax, but I am glad we appeared in the jungle, for if any enemies were to scan for us they would have a hard time, both physically and mentally, trying to find us among this dense undergrowth of a thousand souls.

The jungle begins to spread apart, vines becoming more clustered in smaller parts than blanketing us in a living curtain. Soon, the undergrowth becomes more spread out, dirt and plants slowly giving way to small paths of wild grass. Suddenly, after twisting round the trunk of a peculiarly large tree, the jungle gives way to the mighty spectacle of the oasis.

Pristine blue water sparkles in the afternoon sun that hangs high above our heads. The calm atmosphere is life around us, from insects chirping to the rush of the small waterfall to our left. Several small creatures lay at rest across the pond, sipping from the cleanest waters I have ever seen. Small trees hang partially over the water, the great bulbous fruits from before hanging over the clear water. We are upon a small peninsula indented into the small lake, the outcrop raised slightly to give us the appearance of lords. My friends join me, their shock and awe pressing out, my mind enjoying the slight pride of leading them to such a clean place.

"Jordius, i-it is beautiful." Brocuss says, his voice carrying in the breeze. I cannot help but agree with him, for it is one of the most graceful displays of nature I have ever seen. Everything seems so at peace, so out of place. I never knew such a place could exist and survive in a galaxy consumed by war. The though brought up the question that had been haunting my mind. Where in the name of the warp where we?

"The Emperor must have truly blest us to come upon such a place, I just hope that he will preserve it." Sister Catherine speaks from my right, her voice clear and pristine as the waters below. I turn, wondering why her voice has changed tint only to be met with flowing locks of pure white hair cresting the shoulder pauldrens of her armor. Truly this place as blessed as she said if she is willing to remove her helmet upon an unknown world. I turn back to the area with a smile, glad to see my trusted ones so open with nature.

"I stand by your statement Catherine, and the Emperor has rewarded us greatly. Look to the left, five meters away." I say, my head already focused upon my target. A tree sat dangling along the edge of the pond, its fruit lowering its branched to head height. I slowly shift towards it, my open hand grasping for one of the large fruits. Grasping the large orb of orange, I pull back, the small root giving little resistance you my armored hands. I toss it in my hand, gauging the weight before throwing it backwards into the air. I hear Brocuss's feet leave the ground for a second as he goes to catch the fruit, clasping the thrown object like a groxskin purse. He returns to the ground with his prize with a small 'thump'.

I grasp two more of the fruits before turning about, returning to my place beside Brocuss and Catherine, giving one of the fruits to her. I see Brocuss had already begun to peel away at the outer skin at the fruit, its small tendons holding on desperately as the fruit is ripped away. Moving his hand clockwise with his thumb into the grove, he begins to twist the fruit in his hand, the thumb working as an excellent tool to rip away the peel before it falls to the ground. After uttering a small prayer to the Emperor he begins to dig in with gusto, his teeth tearing away at the sticky fruit as Catherine and myself begin to peel our own fruits. As we finish peeling Brocuss looks up at the two of us, his morsel utterly devoured, a small smile parting his lips as his checks drip with small amounts of bright juice.

"Careful Brocuss, you're beginning to remind me of a Tyranid." I say, mirth swirling in my deep voice. We share a laugh, something that comes few and far between now a days, and we even manage to make Catherine smile, a feat almost unheard of. I dig into the fruit alongside her, the sweet nectar of the fruit splashing across my mouth as I clamp down upon my prey. The fruit is chewy, yet soft, slowly dividing as I begin to devour it bit by bit. Soon the fruit is no more, yet my stomach is not sated. I look towards Brocuss as I wipe my face with an armored fist.

"I say we each have another before we leave, I can also store a few of the things in my pack for latter if you wish." He says, slowly reaching around to grasp the pack on his back that lay partially full with the tools of his office.

"An excellent idea my friend, though be swift, I wish to ascend the waterfall over there so that we may find our bearings in this wonderful but no doubt dangerous place." I reply, turning round to Catherine, motioning with my hammer to lead a path towards the water. She turns, pulling forth her holy chainsword to brush aside the vines and plants. Our armored feet sink heavy into the sand grass around the pond, forging a path for Brocuss to catch up to. His footfalls file in behind us within a minute of our traverse, which is slowly but surely reaching round to the rise leading up to the waterfall.

We reach it within minutes, small animals scattering in our wake as we proceed to ascend the steep rock side of the waterfall. The water roared and splashes, slowly peppering us in a endless mist that is quite refreshing to the humidity of the jungle. Catherine and myself ascend first, making way for Brocuss, our armor protecting his robes from being soaked in the mist. Headway is slower than usually, mainly due to the fact that Brocuss has nothing to assist him in his climbing, such as power armor or sealed gloves with firm grips. He keeps a reasonable pace however, not wishing to fall behind, his determination is one of his greatest values, even for the task of a scribe.

As we reach the cusp of the waterfall, the sun bears down upon us, shining on our armor as Catherine and myself drag ourselves atop the fall to see the upper canopy of the jungle. Nearby a tree is disturbed, causing several birds of multiple colors to go into flight, their cries echoing out across the skyline. I slowly circle around as Catherine helps Brocuss up, my eyes laying upon the beautiful tops of the green trees, small glitters of light indicating several places such as these watering holes, and I find it amazing. Never in my Two hundred and sixty seven years of service have I ever seen anything like it.

The sun beams down, its light no longer obscured by the jungle below, causing both Catherine and myself painfully out of place with our solid black armor. I can already feel the temperature rising, and know that even this close to a water source that it would not be good to stay up here for longer than necessary. Though my locator is broken, the compass still works, same as the chronometer, which slowly moving towards our 16th hour Terran standard. I look down at my left gauntlet, hammer shadowing my face from the sun as I gaze down upon the device. The north lays pressed behind me, and as I look up to gaze at it, sun beating down upon my brow, I see a gigantic mountain range, its peaks reaching far above the clouds. To my west, and south all lie the continuation of the jungle to the horizon, save for the east, where the jungle is caught by a smaller mountain range than the one from the north, though just as far away.

"Look to the north comrade!" I speak aloud, pointing my free hand towards the mountains," Our destination is there. From the slopes of that mountain we shall be able to view our surroundings for miles on end." I say, the others following the direction of my hand. I step to the edge of the water, slowly dipping my hand in its rushing currents, raising the captured water to my mouth for a drink. The others do similar, before finishing their drink, causing me to raise back up and back pace towards the slope. "There is no time to be lost. Come swiftly my friends, for we have but a mere short hours to find another clearing. We must reach that mountain range within the seven days time." I call out, the others following my lead as we descend back into the jungle.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Praise the Emperor, I finally finished this, I'm terribly sorry for breaking my promise and will be admitting that our entire schedule has been knocked far off track, I will try to at least slam these out every ten to fifteen days for you guys who are reading my no doubt shitty work. Now thankfully, all our characters have been introduced (To some degree) and we will be moving onto the actual story instead of setting. Up next we return to Brother Drakken of the Black Templars.**

 **As to what happen to me in these last two weeks, I simply had work, school, Nurgle's rot, and two near death experiences with very stupid people. As for what happens in my free time I have been trying to balance the story with my League play, and have recently become more active in the Long War: Planetside 2. I have also become a follower of Khorne, mainly due to the fact that in League I play some of the most brutal and battle hungry melee champs in the game. Also, my accuracy and kill potential has increased exponentially after I started chanting the Blood God's praises and offering him blood and skulls for the Skull Throne in all caps. Still Love Big E though. See you all relatively soon.**


	6. Chapter V

It had been two standard Terran days since the foul witches had trapped him only Emperor knows where. Trapped within a foul cylinder of sorceries, bound by un-holy powers he had stood, un-willing to give even the slightest glint of information to the foe. His captors had been someone what sparse in their interrogation sessions, asking questions for but a few minutes before realizing that heir captive would be completely unresponsive to their verbal questioning. It actual did not matter which method they would have used, for he would not speak, he would not defy his oaths. The reasonable line of thought was that the witches were too fearful of him to even gaze upon his holy armor. He would endure, just as those brothers who had before him, and he would never give in to the enemies of the Emperor

Brother Drakken would stay forever composed and invincible to the prodding questions of his captors. He would withstand any pain they would bring to bear, and would repel all of those who seeked to destroy him, a manifestation of the Emperor's Will. 'Let them come' he thought, 'They will find no weaknesses or answers from me'. He repeated the thought for hours on end, within the magical chamber, within the large stone room, protected by selective guards, within the powerful and open walls of the Institute of War.

It was an exciting day for Summoner Procestus, for today he would get to gaze upon the demon and, if the stars above allowed, attempt to speak with it. Compared to his colleagues who had been rather disturbed and terrified of the intruder to their sanctuary of peace, Procestus was a barely contained vortex of excitement, wishing dearly to see the creature. Though he had recalled the events of the lasted summoned creature being brought into this plane using nexus power, the cost paled to the knowledge one could gain. What laid beyond the void, what type of creature was this? He had to know, going so far to pester his Summoner Superior Halvard for the last two days incessantly until the man could not bear it anymore.

"Fine!" Halvard had roared at him from behind the Mahogany desk within his office, "If you want to go see it so bad then go! See what I care when that horrid thing rips your head from your body do not even attempt to resurrect yourself just to complain!" He finished, slamming his palm onto the thick wood desk, the sound rebounding off the stone walls of the chamber. Procestus sped from the room, his robes flying behind him as he rushed out the open door, closing it but without enough force to slam it. Behind the door , the older summoner had dropped his head, hand rubbing against his forehead in irritation as he let out an unheard sentence. "Fucking kids and their suicidal wishes."

By that time however Procestus was already down the hallway and moving through the daily rabble and several groups of summoners in his quest to reach the holding room of the creature. He passed by a few of Champions as well, seeing fit to greet them with reverence deserving of their status as great warriors. They gave nothing but nods of greeting in return, which was expected for a summoner as low as himself. He did not mind, and understood why they did it with social standings and politics heavily involved with almost every movement of the champions. He wished it didn't have to be that way, always leaning towards the more simpler aspects of the Institute and its fighters.

All to soon was he greeted by a pair of great wooden doors, their massive structure imbued with magical wards of holding and nullifying runes. This was to be his first test to reaching the creature, with the bag of the Superior within his robes he pushed against the doors with all his might.

For a few seconds the massive doors did not appear to move, the small summoner's hands completely unmoving as he pushed forwards to what seemed to be an immovable object. A few summoners stopped and stared with questioning looks, wondering as to why their fellow had begun to open the great doors, or at least attempt to. The looks grew however, when with a great groan, the massive wooden frames slowly pushed inwards and apart, slowly moved by magical force to the side, revealing a gapping hall similar to the maw of some monster. As the summoner passed through the doorway and into the poorly lit abyss the gigantic doors slowly swung shut behind him, until with a mighty thud they closed, completely cutting off communication to the outside.

The hallway was lit with old magical torches, each which cast a simmering blue blaze from their mounted paces on the walls. The hall stretched forward for several meters, giving away nothing of the place he had entered until the very end of the hall, which lie a set of smaller doors than the one he had entered in, no different save for its size and the figure standing in front of it.

It appeared to be a normal human being, a bit short in stature compared to some of the members of league, but was none the less imposing. Clad completely in golden armor, with red liner and a deep red sash hanging down the hips, equipped with a matching golden and ruby embedded sword with a diamond tipped head, the only odd, or some would say enchanting addition to the warrior, was the large pair of wings that reached from the back of the golden suit. With it, the knight hovered a few feet off the floor, effectively looming over the approaching form of Procestus as he approached.

"Do you have a seal of office to permit your access to the holding chambers?" The knight asked when he had come to a stop below, her feminine voice willful and guarded.

"Yes Judicator, I come with the seal of Summoner Superior Halvard." Procestus replied, reaching into his robe to bring out the circular medallion, its emblem shinning in the blue glow. The Judicator pitched downward, gazing at the office before leaning back into her previous position.

"All is in order, but be wary, I have not seen you before in these halls summoner, and so it is my duty to instruct you on how we shall proceed." She said, still looking down upon the robed form of the summoner. "Behind these doors all magic will be cancelled, save for the powers of the Arch Summoners and the High Summoner himself. You will need to close your mind, for any magical reaction within these rooms that is not sanctified will be sought out and destroyed by the wards and seals of this place, the most lenient of possibilities is a very severe headache, the harshest being death."

Procestus had heard whispers passed down from the upper ranks that such was the power of these halls, for it held at bay some of the most horrible and destructive creatures on RuneTerra. These halls had to be the safest in all the land to even think of containing the might of the creatures such as the Eternal Nightmare or The Terror of the Void. Its guardians, such as the Judicator in front of him were chosen from the most just and righteous of all the lands, having been selectively picked to do their duties. Some were not able to such as the Rogue Mage, who relied to much on his magic to be able to stop anything from escaping the magic blunting halls. The Judicator was in fact effected by the same wards, but she was still an admiral fighter without her magic having spent centuries perfecting her swordsmanship. Another guardian was The Night Haunter, who was unaffected by the wards and was always at peak condition to deal with any break outs that could potentially occur.

Procestus was aroused from his train of thought when the Judicator moved and opened the doors behind her, causing the summoner to follow through. Steeling his mind he followed behind with a slow walking pace, carefully inspecting the hall they walked through. It had several doors of verying sizes, all with similar wards to the great doors leading into the hall. Some were differently aligned than others, and many of the text spread to the walls surrounding the chambers. If he was to pass to close to one he would hear different things, some were horrifying sounds were others promoted nothing but an eerie lack of sound. Procestus though himself a small bit out of his league beside the Judicator and how she did not even seem to react to the presence of the monsters just behind the doors.

Though he could not truly say how much time had passed in their walk amongst the chambers, Procestus could truly feel as if a year had been passed as they reached the far door on the opposite side of the chamber, as if there was something telling him to go back, trying to stop him. Procestus continued on anyway, beside the Judicator even thought the toll on his physique form was increasingly evident, something the Judicator took note of as the summoner leaned forward, the strength and air slowly seeming to come back as he caught his breath. Procestus looked up in both confusion and questioning, wondering what the hall had done to him and lucky enough to Judicator decided to respond to him.

"The halls are a test for many summoner, luckily you were able to withstand their trial, that of strength, mind, and will to continue against the odds and threats of others, though It is a simple trial there are many parts to it, sometimes changing in their fortifications. Each time you walk these halls the feeling will renew, and in some cases, if it dare to find you unworthy or with malicious intent, will increase the weight against you. Pray that should never be the case summoner, for if you ever travel down that dark path, I would be the first in line to stop you." She said aloud, still looking down upon his resting body, her words taking on an almost ice-like tone at the end of her statement. His head tipped up at this, and stared at her armored helmet, too out of breath to bring forth a facial expression. After a few minutes he spoke again.

"L-Let us continue on." He said, a small stutter entering his voice as he placed an uncovered palm on the door in front of him only to hiss and recoil when the forefinger landed upon the tip of a ward, which seared hot against his flesh. Caressing his finger as it glowed red hot he looked back at the Judicator, who simply leaned downward, chanted a few magical incantations that Procestus could not even hear when he was right next to her, and reached forward, grasping the two solid steel handles that rest at the center. Her gauntlets glowed a bright white as they grasped the steel, causing both of them to avert their eyes as she pushed the door inward. The ancient door slid open without noise, slowly revealing a completely bland chamber beyond, save for one thing in the center of the room; the magical cage.

Almost a towering ten feet in height, the solid blue rune prison held no openings or clearness to reveal the creature within. Though the height of the prison was taller than the creature it contained however, the sides were strictly close together, forcing the limbs into a near ram-rod strait position to allow no movement. Safety precautions were in order due to the bloody arrival of the monstrosity, and as such over the past few days it had not been fed nor watered, but it did not vocalize any discomfort at the harsh confinements. It actually had not even spoken save for the thunderous battle cry it had uttered forth as it had emerged from the lower chambers. It had been found that those who had been in the chambers at the time had been brutally killed, their bodies mutilated by either the massive sword the demon had wielded or by large holes in their chest or lack of limbs, caused by something, perhaps magic of a more brutal and forceful nature. It was unnerving to say the least about the creature's silence.

* * *

The door opened slowly, gliding across the surface of stone in an almost perfect way that would be practically impossible to notice for any mortal being, but he was no mortal, his biologically advanced hearing picking up the microscopic grinding of steel covered wood upon stone. He had been left to solitude from the foul heretics and their seemingly endless questions but a few hours ago, yet even his endless silence did not persuade them that he would give no ground to the intellect and memories within his mind. Now they returned, the one who came with the sound of low whooshes of air familiar to his ears, having long ago decided that the sound was air being pressed downward by an air-born creature, the mere thought setting his blood to boil at the thought of a daemon just beyond the cage, safe from his judgment. There was a new sound however, that of soft pattering footsteps, slowly coming closer to his cage. Though many had been through to see him no doubt from the same pitch of footsteps, the weight was different signifying yet another different newcomer to his cage, to try and reveal the heavily locked secrets of his mind. The footfalls stopped, if he guess right, a mere five meters from his cage, the air-born stood above, wings still flapping but at a smaller pace to keep in place.

"Is it within?" The newcomer asked, a high pitched voice, one more akin to a civilian, his voice not solid but young, if guessing right was just above twenty years old.

"Yes, it still resides within, be on with your business." The air-born replied, the female's voice washing over him, as if trying to assure him via he senses that she was trustworthy, even if she had not even directly spoken to him. Though he did not exert discomfort his mind repelled the feeling as if it was a vile sorcery, for all he knew, it may have been. Her voice demanded order, as if every sentence that was wrought from her mouth, with its soothing tones, was under laid with iron will, something that Drakken could begrudgingly admire, even if he had already determined his opinion of the no doubt daemon beyond his blue encased vision.

"Well then," the younger voice started, raising his voice before speaking once again, this time directing the conversation to Drakken. "I beseech you creature of the void, where do you hail from, and why do you attack our people in such a manner? You do not appear like the others from your plane, not of purple and red with claws and chitin but rather with a shell as dark as night and weapons of man, made for destruction. I ask, what exactly are you alien?"

A poor choice of words from the one beyond this blue cage, for even though the term was old, Drakken still understood the implications of being a xenos, a non-human. His mind and heart rankled with displeasure and anger, a boil to the flame within his hearts. Whoever this fool was to call him such, he who was made to fight the enemies of humanity and defend it for any that try to extinguish its light, who he had slain in over three hundred years of service to The God-Emperor, would be ripped to shreds upon his release from these magical bonds. Woe befall those who dare insult the glorious form of he, the will of The God-Emperor, defender of Humanity, he, Adeptus Astartes.

"I really wish to know, why have you come here?" the speaker continued, his curiosity pilling into his voice unchecked and oblivious to the insult he pushed upon Drakken. "Are you some type of robot, maybe even a giant? I would really love to know what you're made out of, I wonder if you would take kin to any of those here such as the Eternal Nightmare, maybe you are such a being as the Sentinel? No, I can see you being more at home in the presence of The Master of Metal, one of the darkest and most evil lords in all of RuneTerra's history." He could hear pacing beyond his cell as the heretic talked, but it did not matter for he was dumbstruck at the implications of the words spoken by the fool.

He, Brother Captain Drakken of the Black Templars third company had been accused, in less than a minute of being not only a heretic, but one who would ally with xenos, an abominable intelligence, an un-holy being not suited within his role as a Adeptus Astartes, and a traitor for all that he stood for. Within a millisecond Drakken's thoughts and emotions had snapped from dumbstruck to that of complete anger, his mind going near blank save for litanies of hate. A low grinding sound echoed forth, past his mouth, going through his helmet without the help of the inlaid vox caster. The grinding spread outwards from his prison, and echoed off of the unseen walls of the chamber, causing both of his "visitors" to unwillingly take a step backwards, the Judicator bringing her sword to bear almost silently.

"HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU TO IMPLY THAT I AM THE VERY THING OF WHICH I WAS MADE TO DESTROY! I SHALL END YOU HERETIC, FOR NO BINDINGS NOR SORCERY SHALL STOP ME! IN THE NAME OF THE GOD EMPEROR I SHALL DESTROY YOU MIND, BODY, AND SOUL, AND I WILL TAKE THIS WORLD BACK IN THE HIS HOLY NAME!" Drakken roared, his vox caster activating in time to bring the speech to a near ear shattering force, causing the very walls of the chamber to shake and tremble. He pushed forwards against his bindings, his gauntleted hands smashing against the magical walls of his cage, both hold pushing outwards with the strength of a demi-god, the cage starting to twist in color from where he exerted his force. With a bestial roar, he gave a final push, causing the magical hold to shatter.

Procestus looked upon the cage in worry at the creature's announcement, hesitant to say whether or not it would hold. Though he had no clue as to what the changing color of the cage meant, he did understand what the creature had said even though he had cupped his hands over his ears in attempt to muffle the volume. What was a God Emperor? Was it referring to the Ascended of Shurima? Procestus had less time to figure out the meaning of the statements as he was roughly pushed back by an armored hand. Before him now float the imposing form of the Judicator, her sword held aloft in a double handed stance. "Get Back!" she called, voice risen but barely hearable over the twisted sounds coming from the prison. It mattered not however, for the prison shattered with an ear breaking shriek, sending out a blast that sent Procestus slamming into the wall just a little right of the door, the Judicator nowhere to be seen.

"I SHALL SMITE YOU HERETIC!" The now free creature roared, small shards of the prison smoking across its person, coating the midnight black in a dark blue, the silver shoulder ablaze in a radiance of shinning silver and the opposite one with its white and black match turned blue. It held its massive weapons in hand, already the sword was alight with eldritch energy, in its opposite had a very odd looking device, similar to the new Piltoverian firearms save for its bulk, his mind cast aside the details however within the next few seconds his excitement to see the creature turned to absolute dread.

With a speed unmatched by anything living it rushed forward, its bulk seeming almost impossible to move past that of a marching pace. It thundered forward from the shattered prison, and directly at Procestus, sword raised and a roar coming from seemingly all around. Terror clouding his mind, Procestus turned to the most primal instincts of self preservation, forgetting all else but to raise a barrier between him and the terrifying creature. As the creature was nearly upon him, swinging downward, a bronze like light enveloped the air around him in a globe shape, its shape just completing as the monster struck.

It was to little avail however, for as the sparking sword of the beast crashed down it shattered his ill timed barrier to pieces, the lash back alongside the runes in the chamber slinging Procestus farther back into the wall before slipping him into the throws of unconsciousness. As he faded into the black he only got a glimpse of what happened next; a blur of gold and white smashed into the creature, pushing it aside from its next strike upon him, the roaring continued as the pain became unbearable, and with that he slipped away.

* * *

The rage had cleared for a second as he struck his opponent, the magical barrier thrown up in protection reminding him of that of a Rosiarius, but without the tint of holy light such a shield would produce. He could feel the fear radiating from the pathetic mage before him, but the sorcerer did not cry out in desperation, nor speak in terrified pray to the horrible deities of the warp. No matter, Drakken though, his mind already calculating another swing just as his first landed. The barrier shattering and throwing the sorcerer back against the wall. Stepping forward with his massive stride, he once more swung the power sword down, the heretic's death imminent. Tempered steel covered by the righteous power field sung as it descended downward in an over hand strike once more, the machine spirit humming alongside as it felt the grip of battle once more.

The strike never landed.

A half second as the swing tore down towards the heretic, Drakken heard the swoosh of wings taking flight once more, his head turning to confront his new foe as the swing waned. A milisecond before the sword impacted upon the robes of the sorcerer he caught only a glimmer of red, gold, and white before being pushed away from the sorcerer, his blade being pushed aside by another one of similar size if not bulk, the gold blade sending his sword arm backward with just enough force to miss the strike. As his sword swung lower and into the concrete , Drakken let his attacker use their momentum to fully swing his sword down, letting their charge glance over his pauldren, the gold blade creating only a small scratch across the paint in a narrow spiked line. His eyes followed the form as it shot, no flew past, his other arm bringing to bear his bolt pistol in righteous fury. His eyes already adjusting the distance of his shot as the golden clad figure sped past him trying to halt their speed desperately, he took in the small nanosecond to identify the figure. White feathered wings spread from the back of heavily engraved golden armor. It all looked very familiar, as if a person had made a mortal size of the Primarch Sanguinius. An angel.

Drakken held his fire, bolt pistol still aimed at the figure as it paused its flight to gaze back at him. A small bout of calm befell the two, the adrenaline of confilict heavy within the two, yet there was a calm now, a calm before the storm. The angel, hand still on its sword, reached upwards with its free hand, grasping at the golden helmet, before pulling it off and casting it to the floor in between them. An almost perfect face took the place of impassible golden gaze, revealing the mane of blond upon the angel's head. The angel reached up and brushed the strands aside, revealing to Drakken's confusion and surprise a feminine face. It was no man that stopped him, but rather a woman, perhaps a saint upon this world? It mattered not, for he would fight her just the same as any other warrior, but first he had to acknowledge the challenge laid out by the woman.

Lowering his bolt pistol and mag-locking it just below his waste and using the other hand to holster his sword, he then proceeded to reach up with the now free hands, pushing against the collar seals of his helmet, resulting in a click and then slight hiss of slightly pressurized air being released. Pulling up further Drakken bowed his head slightly with eyes closed, dropping the helmet into one hand before redrawing his sword and mag-locking the helmet just beside its holster. Raising his head back up he opened his eyes, the dark brown starring at his hovering enemy, whose face had turned from impassible to that of slight shock.

He locked at the angel once more, before charging forward, power sword held in a double handed stance. The angel was quick to react, speeding forward upon white wings to deflect the falling blade. Drakken knew that the angel was at least on par with him in terms of speed and dexterity with the advantage of the wings, however, when her blade struck it barely pushed aside his own sword, revealing how out matched she was in terms of strength. He was surprised to find that her sword was not damaged, but ablaze with pure flames. Despite his surprise he swung again as she passed by, hoping to tear away her advantage of speed by dismembering her wings but to no avail for she was already outside of his reach. She blitz back around in a roll, seeking to come about on his unguarded flank only to find that the eldritch blade was there a split second in return. Another push off sent her aside and swooping back again. This time, her blade struck, across the lower left side of his ribs. The effect, unfortunately for her, had the same effect as before, leaving nothing but a small silver streak among the black paint. Her attack had left her off balance, but out of a proper angle for the giant's sword to come around and hit her, but that was not the attack he would send her way.

"MAY THE EMPEROR GUIDE MY FIST!" Drakken roared, his gauntlet slamming into the precariously positioned body of the angel. A small crunch was heard as the gauntlet partially caved in a segment of her armor along her flank. She carried on however, choosing to guide herself higher before resting a palm against the area he struck. Golden light slipped from between the stretched out hand, appearing to do nothing to the armor, even as the small spell stopped. Unfurling her wings before holding them close to her body, the angel dived at Drakken, resuming the fight. Their blades crashed against each other for minutes, the sounds echoing through the chamber as each warrior had meet their match. The noise encircled them, masking all other things but the focus the two had placed upon each other, including the footsteps of several padded and armored feet.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Wow. I'm surprised by how long this took even with the writers block, and I'm really sorry for the lateness, but hey I did get a longer chapter. To be honest I was thinking about extending this one but at the same time I was running out of ideas to string it together, hopefully this little cliff hanger does well. Also, I do play league, and the lack of writing has basically because I reached plat within the last week for the first time, but now that I have ill be working on this a bit harder. I have also been looking at another style of Warhammer crossovers and have found the RWBY ones to be quite entertaining and exciting to say the least, especially in the case of _"In The Grimm Darkness"_ by Darkerpaths. Anyway, I've held you guys up long enough. **


	7. Chapter VI

Black steel toed boots tapped a constant slow beat from its position upon the cold stone floor. A drumming of fingers drumming of fingers accompanied the tapping, rolling across smooth wood in a resounding pitch. From the vocal cords of a figure reclining against a wall the same texture of the floor, came a baritone hum and whistling, inter changing in pace and step to create a rather moving sound. Together these sounds formed a marching tune of old Cadia, representing their indomitable will and stalwart hold against the legions of Chaos.

It was slowly driving Techpriest Adept 740-5119293-56 "Xalius" to the point of shutting down his organic functions, those that remained anyway. The sergeant beside him had been going through military marching tunes and songs for the past three days they had been in lock up, and had not repeated a single one. How an organic mind could memorize so many without the assistance of a Holy cognator was beyond himself, and he was slowly wondering if the Inquisitor would find it acceptable if the Kraskin met with a tragic "accident" during their time together.

Alas, not all was torture, for he had been able to inspect the machinery and structure of his cell. Within the first day he had done a full scan of their following cell through the walls in a twenty foot perimeter. Along the opposite side of the western wall was open space, revealing the road three stories below. The south was weakest, leading back into a store room and around the back to a fire escape. The north held the door of the cell, and held a reinforced steel frame that blocked their escape. The most interesting wall to him however, was the east, and for good reason.

The opposite side of the east wall lead back into the office room among the third story, a small separation of cubicles and glass walls allowing for a pristine yet structural compound for a desk workforce. Exactly three feet from where the north cell wall connected to the east one he stood, his cloak covering his body in shadow, where had remained unmoving for the greater half of the last two days, to the view of his capturers. He was very far from without movement, for behind and beneath his cloak his mechandrites moved with slow speed and deadly precision.

When they had been "arrested" by the pink haired officer and her supporting Men of Iron, they had relinquished hold of their weapons to the local authorities, a plasma gun, two las pistols, a standard Kraskin knife, three frag grenades, two krak grenades, and a spare melta bomb, they had not however, confiscated Xalius' mechandrites, as if they ever could. Their mistake.

Within two out of five of the holy machine parts that were engrained into his back lay special modified laser cells, made for a small hold out, easily concealed and retractable. Though they did not pack as much a punch as a regular las pistol, nor the amount of ammunition before one was expended, they could be just as deadly to the unsuspecting foe. This time however, they were not being used to kill guards and silence captors, but rather set to a low setting, at a constant burn, just below regular hearing pitch, and at a small enough magnitude that one would not be able to see the glow from but a foot away, and had been pushing further and further into the six inch concrete wall since he had begun standing in front of two days ago.

And today, today was the day of success. He felt the small portions of the wall crumble right before the low powered laser, and retracted the instruments, only to have two different mechandrites replace them instantly. The difference between the pair of Mechandrites was instead of low inserted barrels the mechanical attachments were equipped with needles similar to that of an medicae's tool, Perfect for punching into veins, or as in the current situation, wires. His position was lined up perfectly with a cubical that had been placed adjacent to the wall, with wires exposed to the flat surface it rest against. With a small amount of scanning from the sweeper lense upon the mechandrites head, it swept over a small grouping of wires, tracing them all the way back to an ancient form of cognator, though it would still be accepting of the tools of the Machine God, in a way.

With microscopical amounts of force the needles punched through the wire covering, instantly connecting the tips to the lining of special communication enablers within the wires. The connection was clear, and with that Xalius was now able to slowly creep into the heathen's information system, coding and firewalls peeling away to reveal the bountiful information beneath. What lie beneath made Xalius' eyes physically widen in wonder and curiosity.

In mere moments a several large portions of the planet's, dubbed by the local inhabitants as RuneTerra, historical background. The main content of the planet was singular, a gigantic island surrounded by what seemed endless ocean and 3 smaller sets of islands within the Northwest, Northeast, and Southeast. The mainland was home to two major city states, named Demacia and Noxus, and a few minor factions such as Piltover, Zaun, the Freljord, Bandle city, and the recently resurrected Shurima empire. The off land island chains, the north east controlled by the state of Ionia and the pirate state of Bildgewater.

There were several events that were described in deep perspective on a level above that of a regular over view of history. Several references to an "Institute of War" alongside three major events recorded called "The Rune Wars". Though the history of the planet meant little, the rampant subjects of Magic usage, a form of crafting known as Hextech, and the incursions of several other worldly and daemonic forces made Xalius hesitant to continue. It mattered now that he had to inform his cell mate and prepare a way to escape.

Slowly retracting the Mechandrites from the walls, he slowly lifted himself from the wall, slowly scooting his way towards the bunk where his cellmate sat, hands over head and eyes closed as he continued his multi sounded tune. The scuffing of red robes made the Sergeant open his eyes, looking from his place as Xalius moved closer from the shadowy part of the cell and the two holes in the wall. An eyebrow raised in question as the Techpriest leaned in and began to speak.

"We must leave as soon as possible." He said, the vox caster leaving a small crackle in the words.

"Well I already knew that boltbag." the Sergeant replied, eyes skeptical.

"I have good reason, we must escape tonight, I will explain why as we leave."

"Great, just one big problem, how are we suppose to get the warp out of here? I know you recall being searched and last time I checked you don't have any weapons on you and I don't have my armor." The sergeants replied, eyes rolling at the word recall.

"I know where they are holding your equipment, and who said I was weaponless?" Xalius replied, before bringing to bear his mechandirites.

"Alright, fair enough, but how are we suppose to get out?"

"Simple, when the night watch patroller for the building comes to check on us, I will retrieve the keys in some manner."

"How are we gonna get them to come close enough to the cell?"

"You distract him while I go for the keys he has, if worse comes to worst I put a las-shot through their head."

"Alright, when's the night patrol due?"

"Four hours."

"Ugh, too much time to kill."

"Patience flesh bag."

"Shut it metal man." At that, Xalius retreated to his side of the cell, Mechandrites folding beneath the robes as he went though the information he had required. Once they escaped the city, the one he was guessing by geographical location and feature, they need to travel somewhere and quickly. The mountains would be to visible and treacherous to cross without the proper gear. There was little way to go to the north before they met the sea. They had to go south, maybe travel along the bay line to the city of Zaun. From what he could gather, the people of Piltover were quite hostile to the people of Zaun, several political campaigns and words spat at each other, but the conflict had not spilled into violence. Yet.

It would be a perfect escape from the law bringers of this a accursed place. Zaun seemed much more reasonable from what he had gathered, the strong ruled the weak and the moral laws of the land were set to the overall accumulation of Science could be the perfect for someone of his own skill. He laid back against the wall, eyes alight with though as the time passed.

Somewhere nearby a clocked chimed twelve times, its deep vibrations carrying across the room and into the cell. It was nearly time Xalius thought as he awakened from his sleep, internal scans repurpossing energy. His sensors had detected that the office they were held in had become exceedingly quite within the last two hours, most of the employees having gone home, leaving only the few guards to keep the police station locked down. Thermal imaging revealed two guards stationed within the first floor, two more on the second at desk doing some form of work, the final one residing on the top floor within one of the cubicles out of normal sight. This one appeared to be falling asleep oh so slightly as the minutes passed, eyes almost closed and head drooping at his desk.

Suddenly there was a change downstairs, a third signature had entered the first floor, causing the other two to rise from their resting places. The third signature passed the first two before making its way to the elevator against the far wall of the interest. As the elevator ascended to the top floor Xalius snaked a mechandrite towards the Sergeant, rousing him from his slumber. The Kasrkin looked at him for a moment, causing Xalius to nod his head towards the elevator, the Guardsman finally understanding and sitting up a bit straighter. He just finished moving as the two steel doors of the elevator let out a dinging noise and slid open. From within came a figure that made both of the inmates turn their heads.

Both men were performing an analysis as soon as her high heeled boots entered the room, Dark purple hair rested at the small of her back, her crystal blue eyes shimmering beneath the enormous purple top hat. She wore a one piece with a short white skirt underneath a purple matching bodice and corset. Leather straps gripped both arms and legs along with a set of leather fingerless gloves revealing manicured purple nails. A leather belt with a steel circle finished off the apparel, holding a few small trinkets to the striking woman's person. The most interesting part about her though was the gigantic rifle she held within her arms, though it was not to be barred with that of a Vindicare, it was still about as tall as the woman who wielded it, and she was wearing high heels. It was a marvelous piece of work, made of an almost ivory like substance for the boy topped off with a copper and gold trim. From their position they could see it was somewhat like a bolt action, save for the bolt being at the back of the chambering, weirder yet was there was no magazine, but it rather looked as if the body was the main stay of an oversized revolver, connected to an ejection chamber. Xalius's scans indicated a strange energy within the revolving chamber, similar to the description of the "Hextech" power of this city.

"Well hellllooo there." The sergeant calls out as she approaches closer to the cell, causing her to turn with an eyebrow raised. She redirects herself slightly and glides through the cubicles towards us, high heels clacking like the clock down the hall. She stops in front but a mere two feet away from the cell before she beings to speak.

"I'd be careful about the way you speak prisoner, though I am not a fan of keeping fair people locked away, I have no tolerance for those who enter this city to cause disruption and harm to the people, and considering the way you were armed with those strange weapons, I'd take a glance at the former." She says, her accent clipped and sharp similar to that of a Praetorian. Funny how she seemed to have an accent but most of the people they had overheard speaking in the office seemed to be talking in a very standardized accent of Low Gothic. It mattered not for now, for she was the objective, or rather, the keys hanging from her belt were.

"So lady, you wanna explain to me and my companion why we're still in here? The pink haired officer who brought us here told us the waiting process for such things only takes a day or two at most." The sergeant asked, moving slightly closer to the bars as he stood up from his resting place.

"First of all, my name is not 'Lady' but Officer Caitlyn, chief of the Police Force here in Piltover, second of all, if my partner told you something, don't expect it to be completely up to know with the regular standards, that girl uses too much of her fist to understand the formal procedures of criminal documenting." She said, her glare piercing the Sergeant before shifting a little to Xalius. "Considering neither of you have been able to procure accepted identification of yourselves it will take a small bit longer to file you away and charge you for your crimes, you should consider yourselves lucky that I did not haul you off to the pen for your lack of cooperation." She added, giving Xalius another look at the end of the sentence.

"Off to the pen? For what, a minor misdemeanor?" the sergeant asked out, looking at the officer with confusion.

"Considering you and your companion nearly killed three officers and harmed several more, I'd say you should be in a large amount of trouble, but considering we know very little about you and none of the weapons of clarifications you have given to us match with none of our current records, we have little to go off of to send you to the state pen." She said, shifting her rifle with one hand and waving her forward foot over the floor.

"Wait, are you telling me that those... things are actually cared for?" The sergeant asked, a look of concern filtering over his face.

"Well of course!" She said, exasperation in her voice, "Those "things" are state of the art robots designed with emotion hibitors, allowing them to seem more lifelike and think freely. We've been trying to rule out discrimination a few years ago, after their creation nearly a full decade ago." She said, a smile starting to creep into her face.

The Sergeant leaned forward a bit more, about to reply when a very harsh screech that somewhat resembled the word "HERETEK!" but with several incompressible sounds beneath it, along with a faintly familiar slithering sound. It all made sense to the sergeant when Xalius's fifth mechandrite slamming into the Officer's collar bone, releasing a small blue light and hissing noise causing the officer to spasm with electro currents racing across her body. In a second the amount of voltage that had been spread about her body caused her to become unconscious, her eyes fluttering to stay open before she collapsed face first into the floor.

The sergeant rushed to the bars, crouching down and pulling the officer close enough to remove the keys hanging from her belt. There were a several upon the chain and so began the time consuming task of figuring out which one fit into the basic lock of the cell. Time they did not have. The officer on the floor had heard the commotion and was heading towards them from within the cubicles. Right as the fourth key had been tried the officer had rounded the corner, hand resting on his holstered side arm, only for him to cry out in shock before being tazed by Xalius's mechandrite, causing him to fall mere feet from his predecessor. The sixth key opened the cell door.

"The others no doubt heard that." the sergeant looked at Xalius as they exited the cell and stepped over the two officers.

"The ones on the second floor have and slowly have started to move towards the elevator." Xalius's voice monotone out their status.

"Frag, we need weapons, where are mine located?" The sergeant asked.

"Second floor, in a storage closet titled 'Evidence'." Xalius stated, causing a groan of disappointment from the Guardsman.

"I don't want to inflict anymore negativity on us but I really love those guns." He said, moving towards the chief officer before reaching for her firearm. Xalius's eyebrows deepened slightly at the break in protocal. "Hey, it definitely isn't tainted, and doesn't look anything we've seen from the Tau before, maybe Eldar, but the material seems a bit too coarse for them. Space Elves don't like angles really save for those fragging warp swords of theirs." The explanation appeared to pacify the Techpriest, for now.

The two moved towards the elevator, pressing the button on the side panel for it to come get them. The doors opened instantly, causing the two men to step inside, Guardsman on the left and Techpriest on the right, pressing the number 2 that glowed on the panel, the doors closed and they descended in silence save for some local music softly playing in the background. The elevator slowed to a halt. Xalius moved his mechandrite to left in gesture and then once more in the right, the Guardsman instantly getting the hint of the message. The elevator doors opened.

The officers on either side of the door with firearms raised fired as soon as a Xalius's mechandrite sped past the door and snaked to the side, tazer flashing as it struck the neck of the cop on the right. The other officer was blatantly surprised by the snake like appendage that his gun trialed after the mechandrite, only to miss the Guardsman who rolled past the doors before springing up to deliver the newly acquired rifle's butt to the man's face, twice. The man rolled back screaming in pain but was quickly silenced when he unfortunately rolled over, giving the Guardsman the ability to send a rather heavy strike to the officer's head.

"Quickly, once we grab the weapons we must go through the far window and onto that fire ladder access. " Xalis said, causing the Guardsman to sprint towards the door on west side of the room. A cubicle was moved in front of the closing elevator doors as the sergeant slammed into the room marked "Evidence" to find the room to be filled with matching black boxes, that filled the entire room.

"Right second row, down on the bottom shelf." the voice of Xalius filtered into the sergeants ear, the com-beads not having been removed by the officer's inspections from earlier. Sometimes when equipment is skin grafted it's not too bad a thing. The Guardsman moved finding the right container and kicking it open to reveal his arsenal the same as when it had been removed. Quickly returning grenades to their positions across his bandolier and throwing on the Plasma gun's sash he closed the box before rushing out of the room to find the red robes of the Techpriest scampering out the large window that led to the informed fire access. He was three fourths of a way across the room as the elevator dinged open once more, the sound bearing a shout from the two officers within before they opened fire with their fire arms. Five rounds were fired as the Sergeant moved out the window, all missing save for the last which embedded itself into his arm, causing an outcry of pain.

Xalius grabbed a hold of the man's jacket, pulling him upwards towards the roof. The passed over the verge with shouts resounding from below, causing the Sergeant to turn around. He quickly brought the plasma gun to bear and fired three rapid shots, each of them landing upon the landing and rails of the stairs, smelting them with a loud hiss s the super heated shots ate through steel. Their chasers cried out as they no doubt saw their way blocked by the cooling steel. The sergeant turned and ran, crossing rooftops as he followed his leading comrade into the night of the strange city.

 **Author's note: Sorry guys about the lateness, the writer's block got me as I was trying to figure out what to do with this chapter. I pushed through it though, and also got myself in series for Plat III so there's that. To be honest I still am looking to improve on this story, but I will be starting another story. (SOONTM) This one is gonna be a cross over as well, a triplet as it seems due to "Historical Fiction, Warhammer 40k, and RWBY". Though you guys may not agree with me on this I do like some Warhammer and RWBY cross overs, especially as I said before _In the Grimm Darkness_ and _For Those We Cherish_ being my favorites right now. Already got names and stuff set up, now I just have to write the pieces to it, you know, the entire how am I going to stage the entire 4 man squad and how they got to for reading.**


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